Cider Kisses
by Artemis Fenir
Summary: "It was weather such as this that England enjoyed. It was also weather such as this that he made hard cider for." Pre USUK fluff, Drunk!Iggy x Sober!America.


**A/N: I'd like to thank Sora Resi for popping another idea into my head. I hope you enjoy this, dearie =P**

Rain plummeted down in a hellish fury, thunder echoed in a mighty roar, and all the world seemed to be under assault. The sky was dark and fearsome, and the trees swayed fiercely under the merciless wind. The only light outside was the occasion lightning strike. It was weather such as this that England enjoyed.

It was also weather such as this that he made hard cider for.

Planning on no visitors today (or rather cursing any who had thoughts of coming near his home), he had greedily popped a home-brewed bottle open and poured himself a cup. It was weather like this that reminded him of his pirating days, days filled with treasure and sea and storms and blacked-out, alcohol-hazed memories.

The busy-browed nation watched as the rain pelted at his window, feeling the cider seep into him. He smiled lazily and leaned back against his couch, taking a deep breathe and exhaling slowly. The day was calm, quiet, slow - which he rarely got nowadays. If the nations weren't meeting, America was banging at his door or whining to come visit him.

_America... _

If only he knew what to do with the boy. He was at odds with himself - did he still see him as his younger brother, or as the handsome young man he'd become? He looked at the cider in his cup, hoping that he could divine the answer out of it.

It never came.

At least he could down the contents.

And probably down refills several more times.

_Oh bugger..._

X

Traveling in this weather was definitely not something America wanted to do, and yet here he was. He hadn't seen Iggy in over a week, and it was bugging him. He'd never admit it out loud, but he had fallen for him about several decades ago. But, how do you tell the grouchy old man who use to be your big brother that you found him chocolate syrup-covered worthy?

He parked his car in the drive way, flinging the door open and closed as he got out, and ran to the door as fast as he could. He wasn't planning on getting soaked, but he really should have brought an umbrella. Reaching the door, he began to pound.

"Iggggggy! Lemme in! It's raining!" America expected to be outside for another minute while England hoped he'd give up and leave, however the door opened immediately. America also expected for England to yell at him about being 'inconsiderate' and 'boarish', however he got a punk England making bedroom eyes at him.

"Oh, 'Meri, you're soaked. Come in, come in." The British nation grinned, oh what a devilish grin it was - full of promised sin and screams.

"Uh... th-thanks, England..." The yank careful stepped in, mindful not to actually come in contact with England (and it wasn't for lack of trying to touch him on the Brit's part). "I-I just thought we could, y'know, h-hang out or something."

"Or something? Like?" The smirk was heard in his question, a hand ghosting around America's hip and breath tickling his ear. That was when he smelled it.

Cider. Hard cider.

"Iggy, have you been drinking?"

England pulled away, his face set in a scowl, making America actually _miss_ the smirk and bedroom eyes. "So what if I have, brat? I'm a consenting adult, not to mention a bloody _country_. I can drink if I want." That smirk returned so suddenly that the younger man had to wonder if it had ever left. "I'll tell you what else I want..."

"Uh, England - "

Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was pressed against the wall by a very drunk and obviously very aroused England. America licked his lips, he could easily push the shorter man off, scream or shout to snap him out of it, anything really. Yet, he didn't, nor did he want to.

But, he couldn't - England was drunk, it wasn't right.

"E-Engalnd, Iggy, please. You're drunk."

"Mhm, that I am, lad."

"B-But - "

Lips, soft and warm lips. They were covering and molding against his, tasting of tea and cider and old cigarette smoke (he knew England still smoked!). They were rough and dominating, and America couldn't say no - hell, even if he could, he certainly didn't want to. He moaned as England gripped his hair and deepened the kiss, then nearly whimpering in protest as he pulled back.

The drunk older man glared at him. "You will not _dare_ say no to me, you hear? I have waited and wanted for _too damn long_. I refuse to dwell on this anymore - back in the day, if I wanted I took. And I want you, lad."

The sober younger man blinked, feeling heat rush to his face and groin. "E-England, I-I..."

"Can it, boy, and kiss me." The island nation leaned forward, his lips inches away from the other's... before promptly passing out.

Thankfully, America caught him, not sure whether to be frustrated that he could have had another mind blowing kiss or glad that it stopped before it started. He huffed as he picked the lighter man up bridal style, carrying to his foyer.

He couldn't help but grin and whisper aloud, "Man, I really hope Iggy-kins remembers this..."


End file.
